


My Girl

by LipstickAndWhiskey (CopperMarigolds)



Series: SPN Fluff Bingo 2018 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Language, Mention of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-19 21:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15518550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperMarigolds/pseuds/LipstickAndWhiskey
Summary: Dean, your best friend, made it no secret that he didn't like your boyfriend. The same can't be said of your boyfriend, though.





	My Girl

**Author's Note:**

> **Square Filled** \- best friends to lovers  
>  Written for @spnfluffbingo and @butiaintgonnaloveem on tumblr
> 
>  
> 
> _**A/N** \- This was written both in part for the fluff bingo, and Tiff’s WTF*ck Challenge, where I got the prompt "I’m losing faith in humanity, one faked orgasm at a time." That line will be in bold. Special thanks to @seenashwrite for helping me figure out a use for that line._

"How much longer until they get here?" Jake grumbles testily. "I'm starving."

You sigh lightly, "They'll be here soon. I promise you won't die of starvation before they get here."

You glance out the window of the small diner for the Impala, then check your phone again. Dean had texted you earlier, letting you know they were only minutes away, but the way Jake's leg bobbed up and down in irritation was making you anxious.

You knew he didn't like the Winchesters, having heard some of the more terrible stories from the hunter community. You couldn't blame him for being cautious around them, but the level of animosity he had towards them was uncalled for and unfounded. With Dean, especially. He was always quick with the passive-aggressive bullshit, always ready to blame Dean for anything that went wrong on a group hunt. You always stuck up for Dean, much to Jake's displeasure. He'd even gone so far to ask if you'd had a _thing_ before the two of you'd started dating. You never did, though sometimes the way Dean looked at you made you wonder if there was something more there than friendship.

The table vibrates, and Jake picks up his phone, smiling at the screen. Before you can ask about it, the door jingles as it swings open, the ludicrously tall Winchesters waltzing through. You're quick to your feet, dragging each into their own warm hug before stepping back with a smile. Dean keeps a hand on your bicep though, squeezing briefly before letting his hand fall away slowly.

"Jake and I waited for you to get here before ordering," you say, glancing at Jake as his mouth pulls into a surreptitious frown.

"You guys didn't have to wait on us," Sam insists, waving a placating hand. 

"See? I told you," Jake grumbles as he flags down a waitress. 

"Well, it's _polite_ to wait. Plus I hate eating in front of people who don't have food. It's weird," you scrunch up your face at the thought as you and the boys slide into the booth. 

It's friendly as the waitress takes your orders, chatting amicably about recent hunts and eventually turning to the current one. You smile as Dean talks around his cheeseburger and Sam scolds him, griping about his lack of table manners. It irritates Jake to no end, but you can't seem to care with how nice it is to see your best friend again. His eyes crinkle as he smiles at you, as if he knows exactly what you're thinking.

* * *

Hours later, and you're bleeding, the sleeve of your shirt soaked as you work through the throbbing pain. You're going to have a headache by the end of the night, if not because of the red blooming on your shirt, then because of the massive fight Dean and Jake are having. Sam stands awkwardly between the two, ready to intervene if it goes past shouting, but you're so done with the conversation. 

"Hey! Break it up! We still have a job to do here, and last I checked, another vamp nest to clear out. We can fight about who fucked what up later." The men grit their teeth and huff, conceding to your harsh tone. 

Jake wraps an arm around your waist, and Dean's jaw clenches at the smug smile playing on his lips.

"You okay?" Dean asks as you slip your smashed phone from your pocket. You wince as the screen lights up, the fine fractures making it impossible to read. "I'm fine. I'm more upset that that bastard broke my phone. Hey, Jake. Let me use yours. I think there's a warehouse nearby that they could be using."

"I- uh," Jake stutters. "You can't. I left it at the motel."

You glance at him, brows furrowed. "Jake, I saw you pocket your phone before leaving. Now's not the time to be worried about privacy. I'm only looking at the map app anyways. Chill."

His face suddenly looks sour, but he hands his phone over anyways.

"Okay, so here's the closest warehouse. It's maybe- Wow. Okay, it's only fifteen minutes away."

You move to change the map view, clumsy thumb pressing the notification box instead. Suddenly, time has stopped as you stare in horror at the photo Jake's been sent. What's worse is that the four of you crowded around the screen say nothing, the only sound being the heavy pump of your blood in your ears.

"Listen, I-" Jake begins, but you cut him off.

You hit the back button as you swallow the bile rising in your throat. "We'll talk about it later."

"I just want to say-"

" ** _Later_** , Jake," you grit.

* * *

 Suddenly it's later, and you're even more worse for wear. You feel as though you've gone three rounds with a mean old drunk, plus the added effect of having your heart put through the blender. You're crammed into the back of the Impala next to Jake, unable to even look at him after what you'd seen. He tries to hold your hand, but you pull away surreptitiously. You can feel Dean's eyes on you without even looking, soft and kind and saying they're sorry for something he didn't do. 

"We're almost there," Dean says, as if he knows you're counting down the minutes until you can climb out of the car and breathe again. Each second is stifling, the mood of the car somber as you try not to break. Not yet. You _can't_ yet.

As soon as he pulls up to the diner, you're tugging on the ------, darting out into the parking lot toward your car.

"Open the trunk, please," you ask stiffly, still not looking at Jake. 

"Hey, it wasn't-" 

"I don't care what it was or wasn't, Jake. Open the trunk," you snap, finally turning toward him. 

"Baby, listen. She sent that on her own!" 

"You asked her for _nudes_ , Jake! _You_ asked _her_. I saw it. Don't you _dare_ tell me otherwise." You point your finger at his chest, Sam and Dean forgotten in the heated exchange. "You can shove whatever it is you want to say right up your ass. Now let me get my stuff so I can just _go_." 

"Oh, so you get to rail on me for some photos and I don't even get to say anything about you and Dean?" he asks, taking you aback. "How hypocritical. You're always telling me about another man, and I've got to just accept it." 

"He's my _best friend_ , Jake. People tend to talk about them a lot. Not that you listen anyways." 

"Best friend, my ass. I know you've been fucking behind my back. Don't think I don't see the way you look at each other!" 

Your hand goes flying before you can even think, slapping him hard across his face. "I have been faithful to you, and what do I get? _Lies and accusations_. I'm _done_. Open the trunk and _give me my shit_." 

You're close to losing it as he opens his trunk and drops your bag onto the ground. You purse your lips angrily as he passes, shoulder-checking you and muttering _'bitch'_ as he goes. You watch as he peels out, waiting for Sam and Dean to finally say something. 

Dean comes to your side, and shrugs off his jacket, placing it over your shoulders before pulling you to his side. He doesn't say anything as he guides you to the car, Sam grabbing your bag and putting it in the trunk as Dean gets you in the backseat.

* * *

You're not sure you can take the looks anymore. Sam's been giving you puppydog eyes for a solid week, and Dean's long glances haven't gone unnoticed. You hide in the 'guest' room and read up on lore between helping them research, late nights turning into sleeping late into the afternoon. Your schedule has gone to shit and you know it. Hell, your life has gone to shit and you know it. They know it, too.  

You push at the food Dean's made, fork pushing at the macaroni you'd barely touched. Your appetite isn't what it usually is, and you feel bad for not appreciating Dean's culinary effort. He keeps glancing at you as he tucks into his own food, chewing thoughtfully when he thinks you aren't looking yet again. The guilt pulls at you again, so you force some food down despite the feeling in your gut. 

You should have listened. 

You rush to the nearby restroom, emptying the contents of your stomach into the ceramic bowl. You hate the feeling with every fiber of your being, the smell of it making you dry heave. Crying feels like the thing to do, but you resist the urge as you contemplate how miserable you are. 

"You okay?" Dean's at the door, concern pinching between his brows. "I didn't- my food's not _that_ bad, is it?" 

You know he means it as a joke, but it pulls at that feeling of ungratefulness that's been nagging at you. Tears leap to your eyes, shame heating your face as you hiccup loud sobs. 

Dean curses low, suddenly at your side, pulling you into his lap. He pats your hair as he sits on the cold concrete floor, rocking you gently as you sob into his shoulder. It's overwhelming, the rush of emotion swamping you as you finally let it all out. The breakup, the lethargy, the lack of appetite and general depression you've been feeling. It all comes out in a tangled heap, as bitter as the taste in your mouth. 

Dean shushes you, holding you tight and kissing along your hairline as you calm down. You hold onto him tight as if he's the only thing keeping you afloat in an ocean of emotion. 

"You're okay, I've gotcha," he murmurs. 

You believe him. 

* * *

It's amazing how human you feel after a shower. You've scrubbed and moisturized everything within an inch of its life, even using the fancy shampoo Sam hid from Dean. He was always happy to share with you, as long as you kept it a secret. You didn't dare tell him that Dean had already found it months before.  

You put on your pajamas and met Dean in his room as he'd requested, knocking on the door as you arrived. 

"Come on in!" 

You push the door open to find him hunched over his laptop, his gaze darting up to yours with a sweet smile. 

"Feel a bit better?" 

"Yeah," you sigh. "I forgot how amazing the water pressure is here. I think I finally got the taste of vomit out of my mouth, too." 

"Oh, that's good. Here, I've got your favorite movie all set up." He gestures at the bed, "Go ahead and get comfy. I'm gonna go get something, and when I get back we can start it." 

"You don't have to fuss over me like this," you point out as you climb gingerly under the covers. "I'm a grown-ass woman." 

"And a smartass who is terrible at taking care of herself," he points out as he rounds the bed. "Just let someone worry over _you_ for once. Plus, Sam will get a break from my worrying. He'll appreciate it." 

"Yeah, alright. You got me. I'll stop complaining now." 

"That's my girl," he says, smiling and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. "I'll be right back. 

* * *

You're halfway through the movie, sipping on the powerade and eating the crackers Dean had graciously brought in from the kitchen when he pauses it.  

"What?" you ask. 

"You tell me," he counters. 

"What do you mean?" 

"For the past ten minutes, you've had a look on your face like you want to say something. You can tell me, you know?" 

He's not wrong. You toy with the lid on your bottle as he waits patiently for you to say what you want. 

"I just- **I feel like I'm losing faith in humanity**..." 

" **One faked orgasm at a time**?" 

You look at him, shocked for a second before bursting into laughter, carefree and light for the first time in awhile. "Oh my god, Dean! You can't just say shit like that!" 

"I sure as hell can if it'll get you to laugh like that." 

"Don't be a jerk- I'm..." you sober a bit, "I'm not sure about anything anymore, Dean. It's like everything I thought I knew was wrong." 

His face sets, stony as his eyes light afire. "I should beat the shit out of that son of a bitch for making you question yourself like that." 

"I-" You're blown away at the conviction in his words. You don't doubt for a second that he'd do it. "He's not worth it, you know?" 

"No, but you are." 

He says it so simply, so purely that you wonder if only for a moment... 

"You know that, right?" He searches your eyes. You nod. "Good." 

"I just- I thought that maybe.... Maybe having a relationship would work if it was another hunter. Someone who understands the life. Someone I wouldn't have to lie to. I just want something like my parents had. Two hunters who can make it work, ya know?" 

He reaches out to hold your hand. "Yeah, I know." 

"And then when I think I've found it- found someone I don't have to lie to... He lies to me. He makes me question if-" You close your eyes and tilt your head back as you breathe deep.

"If I can trust someone like that again," you finish, swallowing against the lump in your throat. 

"Hey, look at me," he coaxes, waiting until you look at him fully. 

"Jake wasn't wrong when he talked about the way I look at you." 

Your voice sticks at the back of your throat. He can't- he can't be... 

"And maybe the biggest reason I hated him was because he was with you." 

"Dean-" 

His hand reaches up to cup your face. "Tell me to stop, and I will. I'll push all this back into a box and-" 

"Dean." 

He looks at you like you've never seen him do before, like he can't bear to look away. It's like gravity, the pull he has over you. You glance at his lips, and he can't help but do the same in return, his gaze intense as your eyes flutter closed. His lips brush tenderly against yours, left then right, his breath fanning against your face as you both wait for the other to make a move. 

Eventually temptation is too much to bear, and you press to him gently, imploringly. He's quick to follow your lead, slow and soft as you feel each other out. Your hand finds his neck, blunt nails scraping at the soft hair there. He shudders, parting to suck in a gasping breath as if lightning's cascaded up his spine. 

He mutters an expletive as you hold him close, more dazed than you've ever been after a kiss. 

"Can we do that again?" he asks, and you're already laughing breathily, nodding without hesitation. 

He pushes up, kissing you more firmly, his mouth sure against yours as he molds his lips to you. He keeps the kiss sweet between you. He kisses you for the pleasure of it, content to leave you breathless and gasping as he pulls away, eyes glittering in the blue glow of his laptop. 

"You're supposed to be resting," he says guiltily. 

"Only if you do it with me," you counter, biting you lip, drawing his attention. 

"Okay, that _so_ isn't fair." 

"What isn't?" 

"You-" he pauses to press a quick kiss to your lips. "You ask like that and I can't say no." 

"I mean, I _could_ go back to my own room..." 

"Nope. Not happening." He leans back into his own pillow and drags you to his side, propping his laptop up on his belly, out of the way. "You're staying here, and that's the end of that. And when you feel better, I'm taking you out to dinner. Somewhere fancy where they only let you in if you're wearing somethin' nice." 

You laugh. "Like either of us belong in a place like that." 

He grins at you, "That's my girl." 

"Am I?" 

"You always have been."


End file.
